LAST GAME

Prologue

- Give you a lift?

- Thank you, Mara. I don't think this is a good idea.

Miss Lighthope eloquently waved the hem of her long skirt for the spectators crowded on the road, trying to blow them away like fluff from dandelions. Trick succeeded. Rattled by bicycles, the cadets disappeared around the bend. All but one, the ubiquitous Mara Razz. Without her military uniform, she looked noticeably older and happier. At the end of the school year, a special radiance appeared on the faces of many. Previously, the corridors of the Military Academy only clicked their heels, but now they buzzed. The children's voices cut through. At the last Sunday service, the chaplain barely managed to cry out to God through the hubbub of those anticipating the sacred not in humility and work, but in the summer vacation. The seeping sunlight broke against the stained-glass windows and tickled the cheeks of the young soldiers. Their uniform shirts were soaked with colorful highlights. The backs got hot. Ears blushed. Amidst the surging sea of epaulettes, Miss Lighthope stumbled again and again into Mara's gaze upon her. Сan't confuse this with anything. The look of a person who wants to say something important. Over the past year, the woman has counted hundreds of them in her office. Hired as a psychologist at a school with dizzying results, she prepared to listen a lot, and ended up sitting for hours in an empty office.

- That's bad? - breaking the grass with sharp knees, the girl walked around the car twice.

- It just stalled, - Miss Lighthope leaned on the warm metal, - Your friends won't lose you?

- I'll catch up with them later.

- Oh, nothing to worry about! Go.

- Are you waiting for a tow truck? - under objections, Mara, exhausted by the heat, settled in the shade, - My phone does not catch here at all, yours?

- From the school they have already promised to send someone.

- Good.

The last word resonated with the woman's ears, plunging her into a half-forgotten feeling when you answer the multiplication table in class. It's like you're doing well, but more is expected of you. Miss Lighthope peered down the narrow winding road. Hot air vibrated over the asphalt, now and then deceiving her.

- Do you want me to go to campus? - the cadet reminded that time did not stand still.

- It's about six miles away!

- Well, I'm not going there on foot, - Razz burst out laughing at the surprised woman, - I'll turn around on the bike in an hour.

- The dubious pleasure of a leave of absence, - Miss Lighthope shook her head.

- Lifelong leave! I'm a graduate after all. Before the presentation of diplomas is within reach.

- The Charter is canceled? - the thirst for the coming future splashed on the psychologist.

- We don't even need to come out to the general formation. Don't wear uniform...

- But you keep wearing it.

- I'm going to miss the stripes on my pants terribly, - Mara admitted in a whisper. Either to the goose-grass, or to the interlocutor. She wasn't about to leave the green nest.

- Mara, believe me, you absolutely don't need to guard me here. Have some fun with your friends, okay?

Regret overtook Miss Lighthope immediately. The cadet's dark eyes reflected a desire to break the silence, to spit out the words. Around there were no walls. Classmates. Honorary banners. Only the chirping of birds interrupted thoughts. Without haste, the woman moved along the imaginary borders, leaving the car behind.